Hank
by TheLaikynVictoria
Summary: Tim and Tony find out they knew each other long before NCIS due to perhaps one of the worst tragedies of American history.


**_A/N-Hey! New fic! =D The first line here is from the song 'Where Were You' by Alan Jackson. Please review! =D_**

**_I realize it has a similar ending as my fic 'Hello, New York City', but I just had to end it this way. =]  
_**

* * *

_**Where were you when the world stopped turning, that September day?**_

_September 11th, 2001_

_"Would all patrons please immediately leave the premises. This _is_ an emergency. Please make your way calmly to nearest exit, and immediately vacate the premises. I repeat, this _is _an emergency."_

_The young, brunette man zipped his fly, flushed the toilet, and bobbed his head to the music that was playing through the earphones he wore._

_He was completely unaware of the disaster that was about to take place. _

_He left the bathroom and everything looked normal. People were milling about, making their way this direction, and that direction. The man did however notice the looks of confusion and worry that nearly everyone wore. _

_He stopped where he stood, right in the middle of the glass atrium, and looked out the window. He saw the Hudson river and the pristine sky and sighed. Today had been a good day, and it was only a little after 8 in the morning. He'd woken up around 6 AM (force of habit after his college days) and immediately gotten out in the city, sight seeing. Around 7:45, he found out that there was a science exhibit opening at 8:30 here at the Winter Garden Atrium, and he knew he just had to go._

_Suddenly, he felt the ground start shaking. He popped the headphones out of his ears, and turned to the opposite side of the atrium. His eyes grew wide as he started stumbling backward, the sight he saw making him cower in fear. _

_An impenetrable wall of blackish-gray smoke, dust and debris was quickly traveling toward the building. He saw no use in trying to outrun it, as he wasn't sure where the exit was and he was sure he wouldn't have reached it time anyway. He simply cowered down, covering his head with his arms, and prepared for the worst. _

* * *

_"Hank, where's that list?" Thomas approached his co-worker, coughing as the light dust that filled the air filled his lungs, as well. The list he was speaking of was a list of every person that was in the Atrium at the time of evacuation, having compiled it as everyone exited, and then comparing it with the list of people that had been admitted that morning. _

_"Here, most everyone is out." Hank told him, handing him the clipboard. _

_"Most?" Thomas repeated, sighing. "All need to be out, Hank." _

_"I don't know how some managed to miss the warning." Hank shrugged, rubbing his hand absentmindedly through his hair. _

_"Let's see, Mark McCallum, Pauley de Pablo," Thomas started ticking off the names of the few people still inside, "Michael Murray and Timothy McGee." _

_Thomas handed the clipboard back to Hank, gave a deep sigh, and turned back toward the atrium. _

_"What are you doing?" Hank asked him , watching him go, dumbstruck. _

_"Did you not hear me list off those names?" Thomas replied, without turning around. "I gotta get those people out before..."_

_Thomas was at the entrance to the atrium when he saw it. _

_The wall of darkness, it seemed. It was thick blackish-gray smoke and dust, filled with debris. Thomas didn't have to guess what would happen once it reached that entirely glass atrium. _

_He knew._

_September 11th, 2011_

Tim sipped his drink slowly as he stared into the mirror on the wall behind the bar. His eyes were heavy and he was undoubtedly a little bit drunk. The old bartender watched him in-between serving other customers, noticing him deteriorate slowly.

Finally, after three drinks and a few sudden sways that more than likely could be attributed to dizziness, the bartender approached him.

"Hey there." He greeted, leaning down on his folded arms. "I'm Hank Pearson. You are?"

Tim looked wearily up at the man, seeing his outstretched hand yet making no effort to shake it.

"Tim." He mumbled.

Hank dropped his hand with a small nod.

"Something troubling you, Son?" Hank asked him, obviously not going away that easily."What's on your mind?"

"Nothing you'd understand." Tim said softly, staring intently into his drink.

"Try me."

Tim looked up at him, his eyes heavy.

"I don't even know why I do this." He told him. "There's no rational reason, really. I guess I just get depressed on...Today."

"...Friday?"

"No."

"The eleventh?"

"Kind of."

"September 11th?"

A nod.

"Ah. I see." Hank nodded as well, sitting the glass he was drying on the counter. He then leaned down on his arms again, trying to get the man to look at him.

"What happened to you on September 11th?" He asked.

Tim merely shrugged, not exactly wanting to tell this man something he'd even kept from his own team.

"How about if I tell you somethin' first?" Hank suggested, and Tim just shrugged.

"On September 11th, 2001, I was working as a security guard in the World Financial Center." Hank told him. "The building I worked in partially collapsed. We thought we had everyone evacuated beforehand, but four people got trapped under the rubble."

Hank drew a breath, and continued,

"we tried to get to them, but see, I have emphysema, and the dust got to my lungs." He sighed. "I collapsed, and they took my out of there. As far as _I_ know, no one survived."

"I'm sorry." Tim said softly.

"I'm sorry, as well." Hank nodded. "We should have been able to evacuate everyone."

"I was in the..." Tim looked up at him, his eyes widening. "The World Financial Center. Th-the...Winter Garden Atrium."

Hank's eyebrows shot up.

"That's the building that I worked in." Hank told him. "Wait a minute...Are you...Are you Timothy McGee?"

"How..?" Tim was thoroughly confused.

"You were trapped in the rubble, weren't you?" Hank asked him. "How did you survive?"

_September 11th, 2001_

_Tim let out a low moan when he awoke, and attempted to sit up, but quickly found he couldn't. There were glass shards and large pieces of wood weighing him down, and he couldn't budge them. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, but he knew it had been a while. He hurt all over; truly feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. He couldn't even move his arms in the slightest, the most movement he was able to manage was wiggling his fingers. His head was pounding and he could literally feel his mind slipping. _

'Must have a concussion.'_ He thought to himself._

_He was silent for a long while, save for a few moans and groans of pain, not really having any reason to make noise. He was sure that no one would find him, and that he would die. He'd resigned to that fact, but when he heard footsteps somewhere above him, a glimmer of hope rose in him. _

_"He-help.." He moaned. "Pleaa..." _

_He couldn't even form coherent words anymore, and he was _aware_ of that, making it all the more scary. _

_"Keep talking, if you can!" He heard. "Please, keep talking!"_

_Talking? Did he even remember what that was? Suddenly, a piece of debris was lifted from his body. _

_And another._

_And another._

_Soon, he was nearly completely free, the harsh sunlight making him clamp his eyes shut in pain. _

_"Hey, hey, Man, can you tell me your name?"_

_Name? _

_Tim shook his head, slipping faster and faster. _

_The man that loomed over him sighed and began pulling debris from his legs, and suddenly, it felt like he was pulling his skin off from the bone and he cried out in pain. _

_The man winced and turned toward him, telling him, "it's alright. It's okay. Calm down."_

_He then turned back to his leg, examining it before saying,_

_"okay, the wood is in your leg, but I can get it out." He told him. "It's not too bad, but it will probably hurt _a lot_. Okay?"_

_Tim could only nod._

_"Here, if you have to, bite on this." The man produced a tie from his pocket and handed it to Tim, who carefully stuck it in his mouth and bit down hard. _

_Soon, without _too_ much pain, the wood was out and Tim was still gripping the tie. _

_"Can you tell me your name?" The man asked him again. "Last name, come on. I need to know."_

_"Mc..Mc..." Tim was getting frustrated. Why couldn't he form real words?"_

_"It's okay, okay." The man soothed. "I'm going to get a paramedic, but I won't be far, I promise." _

_Tim could on produce a few groans in protest as the man rose and flagged down a few paramedics. _

_"Hey, you're gonna be okay." He assured him. "You're gonna be fine. Do you live in New York?"_

_Tim barely heard him as he was drifting into unconsciousness. He heard the man talking, but couldn't quite make out the words. _

_"Stay with me!" Tim's eyes slowly opened again. _

_"Do you live in New York?"_

_"Nooo." He moaned. Maybe he could try name, again? _

_"Ti..T..Ti..." _

_Nope._

_"Hey, hey, it's alright, calm down." The man calmed him down and before long, two paramedics were working on him. _

_And with that, he fell unconscious. _

"Do you know who it was that saved ya?"

"Nope." Tim shook his head. "All I have is the tie he let me bite on when he pulled the wood from my leg. The doctors assumed it was mine and put it with my stuff when I was in the hospital."

"You still have it?"

"Of course. It's the only memento I have left of the person that saved my life."

"Hey, I wasn't saying it was a bad thing." Hank shook his head and held his hands up defensively. "You never tried to to find out who he is?"

"No, I can't even really remember what he looks like." Tim told him. "If I hadn't been _told_ that a _guy_ had saved me, I wouldn't even have known. Not to mention the tie, I guess."

Hank excused himself to help another customer, then, and Tim laid his head down in his folded arms. With that, he drifted to sleep.

"Hey there." Hank greeted the new patron that had just sat at the opposite end of the bar.

"Hi, vodka, please." Was the man's short reply.

"Alrighty then." Hank got him his drink and folded his arms on the counter and leaned toward him, in the same manner he had with Tim.

"You look troubled, too, Son." He said. "What's wrong?"

"Too?"

"Nothing." Hank dismissed. "So what's wrong, if you don't mind telling the lonely bartender."

He looked up at Hank, and sighed.

_September 11th, 2001_

_"They need help over there, Mike." The brunette cop insisted to his chief. "Thousands of people, Man, can you even comprehend that? Thousands."_

_"I _can_ comprehend that_, _but I don't need my men going over there when they already have enough." Mike shook his head._

_"Enough?" The younger man repeated. "I was watching the news, and I've talked to my buddy with NYPD. They don't have anywhere near enough!"_

_"Drop it!" Mike exclaimed. _

_"You're supposed to help people. That's what this job is all about." The subordinate cop seethed. "It's our duty to put our lives in danger in order to save others. Now you're refusing to help because you don't want to lose men?" _

_"It's unnecessary." Mike shot back. _

_"No, no it's not." The brunette shook his head. "What does it matter whether the people we help are here, or in New York?"_

_"I don't need this right now." Mike dismissed the argument with a wave of his hand, but the younger man would hear nothing of it._

_"Fine, I won't go as a detective for Baltimore PD." He stated, removing his gun and shield. "I will go as Tony DiNozzo, normal guy wanting to help. I quit."_

_With that, he stormed out of the Chief's office, slamming the door as he went. _

_By the time he reached New York, it was nearly 2 PM, having left around 7:30 AM. He drove into the city toward the World Trade Center, only to find barricades, and since he technically wasn't a cop anymore he couldn't get past them._

_So he kept driving, making it all the way to Hudson before he could get anywhere near the wreckage. Before he knew it, he was in the World Financial Center, coming upon the rubble of the Winter Garden Atrium. He haphazardly parked his car off to the side of the road, and jumped out, going toward what looked like to be the man in charge. _

_"Hey, Tony DiNozzo." He greeted. "Is anyone in there?" He pointed toward where the building once stood._

_"Yeah, we had four people that we know of still inside when it collapsed." The man told him. "I'm Hank Pearson. Are you law enforcement?"_

_"Used to be." Tony told him. "I uh, quit today. Used to be Baltimore PD."_

_"Why'd you quit?" _

_"My boss didn't want to help. I thought it was wrong."_

_There was a lull before Hank spoke up, again,_

_"it's doubtful anyone survived this." _

_"Doubtful, but not impossible." Tony countered. He was about to walk toward the rubble and start searching for someone, anyone, when Hank suddenly started coughing deeply. _

_"Hank, are you alright?" Tony asked him._

_"I..I have emphysema." Hank choked out. "This dust isn't...Helping."_

_"You should leave." Tony told him, and Hank shook his head. _

_"I've gotta help." He continued coughing. Before Tony could reach him, he collapsed. After making sure he was sent off with a couple paramedics, Tony turned back to the rubble that used to the atrium. _

_"There's gotta be someone here." He mumbled. "There has to be someone alive." _

_He took a deep breath, composed himself, and figuratively and literally 'dove in', expecting the worst but praying to God for the best. After a few hours of searching, he stumbled upon someone. He cleared away some debris to reveal a young, brunette man. No older than 25. He felt for a pulse and was crushed to find none. He sighed and reached in the man's pocket to find an ID. After searching and finding a wallet, he produced a driver's license with the name, "Michael Murray" He slowly put the wallet back in the man's pocket and motioned for a cop that stood a ways away. He softly told him who he was, and then continued with his search. After another couple hours and finding another body, he stopped to catch his breath. He took a drink from his water bottle and wiped his brow and then froze when he heard a low moan. _

_He stayed silent, praying that he'd hear it again._

_"He-help. Pleaaa-" The voice trailed off into a moan, and Tony started digging where he thought it came from. He added more cuts to his already-tore up hands, but he didn't care. He had to save this person. _

_"Keep talking, if you can." Tony told them. "Please, keep talking." _

_Finally, after nearly an hour, Tony produced a very badly injured young man. His face was surely unrecognizable to those he knew, and he had to have had multiple broken bones, not to mention the inevitable countless internal injuries. _

_"Hey, hey, Man, can you tell me your name?" Tony asked him as he worked on clearing the heavy debris from the man's legs. He shook his head, seemingly unable to form anymore coherent words._

_Tony attempted to pick up a large piece of wood off his leg, the last big piece of debris, but the man's sudden outcry of pain stopped him. He stopped and calmed him down before trying to figure out why it hurt so bad. He quickly figured it out._

_The piece of wood was partially embedded in the unidentified man's skin. _

_"Okay, the wood is in your leg, but I can get it out." Tony told him. "It's not too bad, but it will probably hurt _a lot_. Okay?" _

_A simple nod from the man. _

_"Here, if you have to, bite on this." Tony told him, reaching into his pocket and producing the tie he'd been wearing earlier that day._

_A simple nod and a another moan as the he took the tie and stuck it in his mouth. Tony inhaled deeply, and began to extract the wood from his leg. His cries of pain through the fabric could have been heard in a mile radius, Tony was sure. Finally, once it was out, Tony leaned over, close to him. _

_"Can you tell me your name?" He asked the man, again. "Last name, come on. I need to know."_

_"Mc..Mc..." He mumbled and fumbled, obviously unable to finish. _

_"It's okay, okay." Tony soothed. "I'm going to get a paramedic, but I won't be far, I promise." _

_The man attempted to protest but only got out a few groans. _

_Tony stood up and looked around. After he spotted a paramedic and waved him over, he knelt back down to the (still) unidentified man. _

_"Hey, you're gonna be okay." He assured him. "You're gonna be fine. Do you live in New York?"_

_No response. _

_"Hey, Man, come on, stay awake." Tony demanded. "Stay with me. Do you live in New York?"_

_"Nooo." He moaned. "Ti..T...Ti.." _

_"Hey, hey, it's alright, calm down." Tony told him. He wanted to search the man's pockets to find a wallet, but he knew moving him would be extremely painful so he decided to let the doctors that would soon be working on him identify him. _

_A couple paramedics made their way over and started working on him, shooing Tony away. So with that, he went off on another search. He soon found, though, that all the people that were trapped in the rubble had been accounted for, so he made his way back to his car. _

_After pulling a few more water bottles out and letting the door slam shut (knowing that a car would be useless), he started to walk towards the other areas of disaster, hoping to help more people. _

_But he would never have seen _this _coming._

_A car came barreling down the street, running through barricades and police officers, obviously refusing to stop, or unable to. The driver was apparently unaware of the tall, brunette man standing to the side of the street, as she clipped him and sent him sprawling to the pavement. _

_Tony's head was spinning and he was seeing stars. He fell unconscious before he saw what happened. _

"I woke up in a hospital a few hours later." Tony finished. "Only helped one person. Didn't even make any difference."

"Wait...You're Tony DiNozzo?" Hank asked him. "Used to work for Baltimore but quite on 9/11?"

"Yeah, I just said that."

"I'm Hank Pearson. I..I have emphysema." Hank explained. "I collapsed there, just when you got to the Winter Garden Atrium. I was a security guard there."

"Hank Pearson?" Tony asked incredulously. "That's...Wow, it's a small world."

"Wait, so..Do you know what the name of the guy you saved is?" Hank asked him, suddenly seeing things all fit together, like puzzle pieces.

"I know his name started with T and his last name with an M, possibly 'Mc-' something," Tony shrugged, "but I'm not sure. Never heard anything about him after that day."

"Well, Mr. DiNozzo, what would you say if I told you that you could meet the man you saved?" Hank asked him.

"I don't know what you're..What do you mean?"

"I believe the man you saved is right here in this bar, right now." Hank told him. "Right on the other side of this bar."

"Are you..Are you serious?" Tony asked him. "How..You really know who it is?"

"I believe I do."

Hank motioned for Tony to follow, and he walked down to where Tim lay sleeping.

"Hey, Tim." Hank shook his arm. "Tim, wake up."

"Tim..." Tony trailed off as he realized who was sitting in front of him. "...McGee?"

"You _know_ him?" Hank asked him, shocked.

"What is it?" Tim asked. "Tony, what..What are you doing here?"

"How could you not have know.." Hank was dumbstruck as he turned to Tim. "Tim, this..This is the man that saved ya ten years ago."

"What? Tony? No.." Tim shook his head, then something dawned on him. "Armani tie."

"What?" Tony asked him, confuse. Then, something dawned on _him_.

"My Armani tie was..I let him bite on it when.."

"You pulled the wood from my leg."

"Well isn't this something." Hank laughed. "How do you two know each other?"

"We're cops, we've..We've been on the same team for seven years." Tony told him, sitting down next to Tim. "I can't believe I never knew.."

"My face _was_ pretty beat up." Tim nodded. "Plus I couldn't even manage to say my own name, let alone remember a face."

"Tim, I..I thought that since I only..I only helped one person." Tony shrugged and fumbled over his words. "I mean, so many more people died and I only helped one and it seemed, I don't know...Unimportant."

"Why only one? What happened?"

"I walked across the street and got clipped by a panicking civilian." Tony told him. "It wasn't too bad, but I was unconscious so they sent me to the hospital."

"You could have went back." Tim told him in a non-accusatory manner.

"I would have. But I..I was looking for _you_." Tony stated, pointing at him. "Well, looking for whoever it had been that I saved but, I couldn't find anything. Plus, I was looking for a job."

"A job?"

"I quit my job at Baltimore PD that day cause my chief said that I shouldn't go help." Tony explained. "I told him to shove it, and I quit."

"Wow.."

"I found a job at NCIS not too long after that." Tony continued. "I was working by January, so it was a pretty quick process."

"Mine wasn't." Tim grinned sorrowfully. "I was in the hospital for about a month and a half, and then bed ridden except for physical therapy for three months after that. By then, I could return to a semi-normal routine, but continued with physical therapy."

"When did you apply at NCIS?"

"It was September of 2002." Tim nodded. "I applied, and they sent me off to FLETC. I barely passed. I was in Norfolk for about a year before you guys showed up."

"When did you stop physical therapy?" Tony asked.

"Uhm, June of 2005." Tim replied.

"And none of us knew about it?" Tony asked incredulously.

Tim only shrugged before he spoke,

"it's not unimportant."

"What?"

"It wasn't unimportant." Tim repeated. "You saved 'only' one life, yeah, but that's _my_ life. I mean, I'd like to think I've saved a few lives along the way, and imagine if I hadn't survived ten years ago?"

Tony looked down at his folded hands,

"yeah, I guess."

"Tony, you saved my life that day. It was the first time of many, I admit, but..." Tim trailed off. "..Thanks."

"No thanks, needed, Tim." Tony shook his head. "Just doing my job."

"No, you weren't." Tim told him. "And that's why I thank you."

"Wanna go rent a movie and watch at my place?" Tony suggested, motioning toward the door.

"On your 76', HD, plasma screen home theatre TV?" Tim asked, and Tony nodded. "Sure."

They got up and walked toward the exit, but both froze when something caught their eye. There, hung on the wall with lights illuminating it, was a picture of Hank Pearson. A small plaque below it read,

_'Papa Hank, beloved father, trusted friend and great man. March 14th, 1956-September 11th, 2001.'_

Tim and Tony turned slowly and stared at each other.

"That's..It's not...It can't...Right?"

"No, no, right..It can't be..It's not."

"I think maybe..We had just a..A little too much to drink."

"...I only had one sip."

**FINIS**


End file.
